Tales from Turing
by GayShipsWorshipper
Summary: I couldn't seem to find much fanfics about Alan and Christopher from The Imitation Game so I decided to write my own, in which this is set in Sherbone School, Alan lets Christopher find out how much he loves him etc. But Chistopher isn't exactly eager to return the favour until something changes his mind. Sorry I'm awful at summaries. For shippers of Christalan out there like me.
1. Chapter 1

"Christopher!" Alan raised his voice over din of the chattering boys in the cafeteria. His best friend turned around and walked towards him with an apologetic smile."Alan! Morning, sorry I didn't catch you after Chemistry; Professor Boyle wanted to speak to me afterwards, and then I had to rush for lacrosse, you know how Mr. Till gets in a right fuss if we aren't on time." "It's alright," Alan replied, although he had clearly remembered the sinking disappointment when Christopher was not waiting for him as he usually would. "Hey, would you like to sit with us then? Just Blake and Finch, plus the boys" Christopher offered. Alan could feel his heart sinking again. Christopher's friends were definitely not Alan's'; they tolerated him at best, and usually teased him, though weren't as bad the bullies. Any meal shared with them was usually awkward for Alan, he ate in silence as Christopher joked and laughed along with the rest, the ever-popular prefect, and it was worse when Christopher tried to include him in any conversation that always turned out stilted at best. No, it certainly was not wise to join them, though Alan would have given anything to be with Christopher, but Alan was far from stupid. "No, thank you, I'll be at the quad, " said Alan. He packed a sandwich in a paper bag with some fruits from the food counter and headed for the green field outside. As he passed Christopher's table, (deliberately, of course,) he heard Blake, a thick-headed boy who had a bulky frame and was the captain of the school lacrosse team, say scathingly, "It's just as good he refused, Christopher. Not to be mean, but everyone knows Alan's a right freak, and he's always following you like a puppy with those doe eyes of admiration. You need to ditch him once in a while to let him survive by himself. Lord knows he needs a few fights to beef him up and you can't always be his knight in shining armor." Blake and the rest hooted and laughed in a uproar, not noticing Alan who was standing, neck and ears flushing, close by. He walked on resolutely onward, but all the while straining his ears for Christopher's reply that never came.

Alan settled down under the tree, the one he and Christopher always picked to spend the hot afternoons and began to eat his lunch. His mind was in a turmoil, he didn't know whether it was because he had overheard Blake's stinging remarks or because of Christopher's lack of defending, though Christopher rarely said anything in regards to his and Alan's friendship whenever anyone brought the subject up. Alan knew it was because of Christopher's peaceful nature, who hated to argue with anyone, but he never could help wondering if it was because Christopher was ashamed of him as a friend. Maybe it was out of pity that Christopher always allowed Alan to tag along, and spend time with him to discuss any topics they liked, be it mathematics, or forensics, engineering, or most recently, cryptography. As Alan chewed on an apple thoughtfully, something whizzed past his head. He turned to look where it came from, only to be hit painfully in the forehead by some hard object. His vision blurring, he picked it up and saw that it was a frisbee. Loud cheering and laughter told him that he was the victim of yet another bullying session, and then "Alaaaaaaaaan! Remember we told you to look up? Stop getting lost in your dream world, it's not Maths class anymore!" Sniggers broke out from the group of rowdy boys slowly advancing towards him. Alan got to his feet unsteadily as he turned to run from them.

They chased him to a secluded section of the school, some abandoned gardens where Alan was made to eat dirt as they pushed him into the earth and dead flowers, and stained his uniform. He sputtered and gasped as the boys shrieked with laughter and excitement, taunting him. All the while, Alan was praying for Christopher to come and help him as they smashed his face against the ground again, this time breaking his nose. He knew it was unrealistic to do so, but he kept hoping for Christopher to just be here and _darn it_ , save him. "Waiting for your darling Chris-Christopher to c-come s-save you?" taunted one of the boys, cruelly mimicking Alan's stuttering. "We got for news for you Alan, Christopher isn't really your friend." "He IS," said Alan defiantly. "Oh, why do you think he isn't here now, hmm? He only patches you up anyway afterwards, it's only cause the headmaster asks him to keep an eye on you, but he would never get his hands dirty, least of all for you. He only wants to look nice 'cause he wants to go for Head Boy next year, and what better way to show his kindness than to a freak like you, Alan." "Shut up," Alan said, and got a kick in his ribs for it. "You best take that back Alan, you know who is in power here. And anyway, Christopher told me himself."

Suddenly, footsteps sounded near and the boys scattered, leaving Alan with throbbing pains all over his body and a bloody nose. The person came closer."Christopher," he sighed weakly. But as he sat up gingerly, he saw that it wasn't. It was only the school groundskeeper. To avoid any unwanted questions, he hobbled back up to the school, and was glad for the filth on his face, for it hid the tears that ran down his face. After going to the Infirmary to get his injuries cleaned up, he managed to crawl his way up to his room to take a shower and curl up on his bed to sob. The extensive bruises and cuts on his body ached and throbbed, but none hurt as badly as the wound in his heart. It had never come to his attention of the remarkable coincidence that Christopher always found him after he'd been bullied, not before. He had also known of Christopher's intentions to try out for Head Boy next year, being widely involved on the prefectorial board. His worse fear was confirmed. Christopher hadn't really been his friend after all. Alan was just a lonely freak that the headmaster forced Christopher to befriend.

"Alan?" The knock on his door made him look up from his books. Alan felt the familiar feelings of anticipation and happiness, followed by a wave of dread. Christopher stepped into his room, then stopped at the sight of Alan's injuries. "Oh, Alan, what happened? I'm so sorry, you should've joined me for lunch, this wouldn't have happened. You should take better care of yourself. Who did it? How are you feeling?" Alan felt his stomach turn as he steeled himself to ask Christopher."Chris?" "Yes?" "Chris, did you-Were you ever really my friend?" Alan asked, his gaze fixed to the ground. He would not-could not, look at Christoper. There was a stunned silence. "Alan, whatever are you saying? Of course, I'm your friend. I have been all these months. 2 years of friendship, Alan, do you really think I'm faking it? What made you think this way?" asked Christopher concernedly, and sounding genuinely confused. Alan mumbled, "Someone told me you only befriended me because of the headmaster." "Well, I never knew about you before that. So yes, it is true that the headmaster told me to help you fit in-" "So it's been all a lie then?" burst out from Alan. He was startled to find hot tears blurring his vision. "Course' not Alan, I do enjoy being your friend, truly. I wouldn't ever lie to you about that. You're the best person I could possibly be friends with. " Alan had to smile a little at that. "But they said you were running for Head Boy, and you _are,_ and everyone knows I'm a freak, a-a, a weirdo, and you're just popular and so wonderfully _perfect_." Alan stopped rambling. Lord, did he really just tell Christopher that he was perfect? How mortifying, oh no, Alan hoped fervently that Christopher didn't hear him. Alan kept his gaze to the floor. He would not look up."Alan," said Christopher. "Alan. Alan. I'm not perfect, Alan, and neither are you, but you are most definitely not a freak. Or a weirdo. Or any other ridiculous names they choose to tease you with. You are my best friend, and that should be good enough for you as it is for me." Christopher slung an arm around his shoulders and told him, "Sometimes it's the people no one imagines anything of who do the things no one can imagine."

Alan couldn't move. Christopher had his arm around him. _Christopher had his arm around him._ He couldn't deny the the tingling in his stomach, and it felt more than butterflies. A hummingbird would be more like it. He tried to take a deep breath, but inhaled Christopher's scent of fresh linen, a slight hint of some cologne and a woodsy, pine smell. Alan felt himself gulping. "Alan, are you alright? I think you should lie down on bed. Here," Christopher helped him to the bed. Everywhere that Christopher touched him, his skin turned strangely warm and he could feel himself flushing. He didn't feel lethargic anymore, no on the contrary, he was brimming with this new-found, tense, electricity-like feeling, almost like an adrenaline rush. He was hyper aware of Christopher's every moment. Every crook of the arm, every brush of the hand, every sweep of his beautiful hazel eyes. "Alan, you're turning red. Maybe you've come down with a fever? Should I go and fetch Nurse Hilda?" Christopher sounded alarmed. "No,no I'm fine, Christopher," said Alan. As Christopher felt his forehead for a temperature, Alan tried to still himself. He was so strangely tempted to press his forehead against Christoper's hand. It had been like this for about a year now; every time Christopher cleaned his wounds, swathed him in bandages or ice packed a swelling joint, no matter how painful they were, Christopher's fingers would still feel like they were dancing over his skin, the light touches leaving trails of tingling along his legs and arms. And Alan would yearn for more until it made him feel so ashamed and guilty and dirty. Oh, but he wanted so _much_ more. But he had to control himself or else Christopher would, would-be utterly disgusted, not to mention terminating their friendship and worse still, reporting to the headmaster where Alan would surely be expelled. It was against the bloody _law_ , for as if Alan wasn't already weird enough, he would have to add being a- a _gay_ to his list. A _faggot_. And the only reason Alan survived at Sherborne School was because of Christopher. No, he would do anything to keep Christoper by him, and if that would mean tampering down his stupid hormones and feelings, he would.

Christopher tucked the sheets around Alan, as Alan's lids slowly shut of their own accord. He and Alan had talked well into the night, until it was almost curfew and Christopher's leave was mandated. Talking fervently about codes, Alan's newfound favorite topic, had managed to distract him from any pain until it lulled him to sleep. Christopher looked on fondly at his best friend, which Alan most certainly was, despite any worries he had. Christopher himself felt honored that Alan deemed himself worthy of his companionship to discuss such academic topics that Alan, despite being the younger, was certainly more proficient at and something of a prodigy with. As Alan started snoring softly, Christoper eased off the bed gently, and turned to leave. However, he felt a tugging at his hand. It was Alan, who had unknowingly grasped Christopher's hand in his sleep. Christopher quirked a side of his mouth and bent down to release his hand. As he was doing so, he felt a small, brief peck on his lips. He looked up and saw Alan, seemingly awake, staring at him so intently with those brillant blues, but with an emotion so vulnerable and innocent that it took his breath away. Their noses barely skimmed each other. Startled, Christopher stumbled back. He stared at Alan in shock. Alan himself seemed to be sort of asleep still, though half-conscious. "Chris, I'm...sorry" he mumbled, looking at Christopher through half-lidded eyes. Christopher was rooted to the spot. _Alan Turing_ had just kissed him. A _boy_ had just kissed him. Almost guiltfully, Christopher first thought of the consequences that would befall both of them if anyone found out that they had engaged in such... _queer_ activity. And if they found out that Alan was gay. Christopher turned his back on Alan, almost fearfully, but before he reached the door, he looked back. Alan was back to sleep, but with a small crease on his forehead, the kind he got when he was solving a particularly challenging physics question. His mouth moved, but no coherent words formed. Christopher was ashamed to admit it, but he was afraid. Not of being Alan's friend, course not, but what feelings that had transpired on Alan's part throughout their friendship. And if anyone else suspected. And how would he be able to tell Alan that he wasn't interested in Alan in _that_ way. He wasn't sure if Alan could take it, the rejection, a boy so desperate for affection and comfort when violence, nastiness and discrimination was all he had ever known from other people in general. Christopher rubbed his temples in frustration, it was late, and he too, was tired. He would have to leave these matters for the morning.

He grabbed his coat from the chair, and one of his Chemistry notes fluttered out. He stuffed it back in distractedly and stalked out of the room. When he got to his room, he found out that the paper he'd crushed in his was not notes from lesson, but rather, one from Alan. The crumpled paper read "Xsirhglksvi " in Alan's distinct slanting scribble. Christopher furrowed his brow and turned it over. "R zn hliib yfg P ZQAE TQR"

A sharp intake of breath. Christopher rested his head on the wall. His worst fear was confirmed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alan woke up when the morning became too glaring to bear. His mouth felt parched and his body, sore. He stumbled to the communal bathrooms, and was washing his face blearily when he saw that he sported a brillant purpling bruise on his forehead in the mirror. It wasn't the worse he had ever had, thank goodness Christopher had been there to accompany him and patch him up. Lord knows the last time he tried to nurse himself...oh. No. Christopher. Christopher. Those hazel eyes barely a millimeter away, his body involuntarily leaning in...and what had he done? He had kissed him. Kissed Christopher. Alan tried taking a deep breath as panic tightened his chest. Suddenly a vision of Christopher's absolute look of shock and disgust entered his mind, those hazels flattened into squints as he backed away, the soft lips twisting into a cruel smirk as they mouthed the words "poofter". He covered his head with his arms and ducked into an empty shower stall. Despite the damp floor, he crouched down in the dank, dark corner and pressed a fist to his mouth. His eyes stung as his body racked with violent sobs.

Christopher was going to kill him. No, worse. Leave him. He wasn't going to have a friend anymore. No one to sound him out patiently on his latest theories or comfort him when the vicious attacks struck. No one by his side to help him navigate the social circles of the academy. Christopher was undoubtedly the best thing that had ever happened to him, and now he'd ruined it all. He had always knew, deep down, all this time, that Christopher would eventually leave him, tire of him, not wanting to be the nice one anymore to befriend the freak, and slowly draw away. As the others had. But he never thought it would be because of his foolishness.

Alan wasn't usually one for self-harm, but this time he split his knuckle to the bone punching the bathroom wall as his tears joined the water on the tiles. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And Alan thought himself to be a genius. What a joke.

His stifled sobs echoed off the empty washroom walls.

As empty as his side would be now.

Christopher stared at his breakfast in a daze. He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before, the sheets seemed too tight, the night cold, and his head confused. Near the wee hours of the morning, however, he had succumbed to the creeping darkness and slept. In fact, overslept. The staff were already keeping the dishes and trays. A couple of junior boys were all that lingered, obviously nursing hangovers. Christopher didn't really feel any more clear-headed than them. His mind bounced back and forth incessantly. This was truly a mind-boggling problem. Rubbing his temples gingerly, he sighed heavily. Bloody hell. He would take calculus and quantum physics combined over this. He wasn't sure how Alan was coping either, if he'd remembered, and was afraid to find out. God. How was he supposed to act normally around Alan even if he didn't have any recollections? Knowing that Alan secretly nursed an unrequited crush on him all this while? And if he did recall? How? How was one to go about letting down the most emotionally fragile person that deserved someone loving him back? How? There was no gentle way to do this. It was jumping on the speeding freight train or watch it crash. Christopher knew that Alan did not like human interaction because he never understood it and yet, to let himself into the most overwhelming thing the human emotion was capable of was like pushing the beginner off a diving board and into the deep end of the pool. How was Christopher going to throw him a life buoy if only to take it out from him under later on? But letting Alan drown? That wasn't even an option. Decisions he loathed to make. Christopher dug fingers into his hair, his head pounding loudly.

But so was his heart.

Alan knew himself to be a coward, which was why he studiously avoided Christopher like a plague all day. Well, not that he had seen Christopher, but just to be sure, he was in a rickety cupboard in an unused classroom at part of the school due to be demolished for renovation. Using a flashlight to read the chemistry text he was currently poring over, he had only managed a few chapters so far before the terror hit him again. It came periodically. The twisting of his stomach. The sweating. He reasoned that if Christopher couldn't find him, then well, maybe he couldn't tell Alan that he was leaving him. But who was he kidding? How long would it be before absolute solitude? Or worse, would Christopher-he wouldn't right? But he was a prefect after all. Sod it. If Christopher told someone, he deserved it anyway. Curling into a ball, his back uncomfortably against the dusty wood, he resigned himself to an afternoon of reading. But try as he might, he couldn't help but yearn for Christopher's voice to read out to him like on all those lazy Sunday afternoons.

Christopher was getting mildly worried now. He'd hunted all morning, (or rather, whatever's left of it) and into the early afternoon to find Alan. But it seemed he didn't want to be found. And then he thought that at least he would see him at lunch, which came and went without a sign of Alan. And so was he absent at Mr Boyle's Organic Chemistry class, which Alan never ever missed. Professor Boyle seemed to be the only teacher that could still teach Alan something, and Alan had a spotless attendance and never skipped a class. Not even the time when he had pneumonia. Christopher had scouted all the dorms, the libraries, both school fields, all their usual haunts but then, the school campus really was huge. He told himself that maybe Christopher just wanted a bit of space, so he decided to wait until dinner before he tried again. He tampered down the niggling worry that something wasn't quite right, though privately, he was relieved that he'd gotten the chance to delay this conversation for later. It wasn't one he was looking forward to. He was running errands for a couple of professors in the Humanities campus when a sweaty-faced junior dashing in the halls almost collided into him. "Oh! I'm sorry-A prefect! You've got to help!" The young boy squeaked desperately, wringing his hands. "What? what is it?!' Chrsitopher asked, noting the tone of urgency in his voice. "The unused blocks. The ones for renovation. There's a fire! I tried to stop them but-" The young boy gabbled. "Tell the first teacher you see! I'm going to help!" Christopher all but yelled at him as he ran down the corridors and towards the blocks. Thank goodness no one would be at those blocks...

Alan woke with a start because he was sweating profusely. The afternoon air was getting too humid now, and the temperature was scorching hot. He tugged at the stiff collar of his sweater and decided, with a huff, to just get out of the cupboard. Christopher find him be damned. He swung himself out and collapsed into a chair. The outside air was slightly better but not much. It really was hot. There was a funny smell in the air. But it was vaguely familiar. Like one of the chemicals they used in the labs. Rotten eggs. Perhaps propane or methane with something. That's it. Something was up. Alan walked down the stairs, only to hear odd crackling sounds and what seemed to be shouting, but in a distance. It also got hotter as he neared the bottom, and the air was thicker. And then, he stopped abruptly. For in front of him, was a blazing classroom, with fire licking the walls, curtains and old books. And the path of flames were headed straight for him.

He was too busy looking at the fire to notice the ceiling as it came crashing down.

Christopher reached the blocks only to groan in despair. A thick, billowing column of black smoke arised from the bottom classrooms windows. The upper part of the building was mostly untouched yet, but it wouldn't take long. Most of the school walls were charred from the fire, and one part had completely collapsed, with the fire tearing down the already rotten and unstable wood. There were empty canisters littered around. It seemed that some idiots had decided to light up the buildings as a prank with stolen bunsen burners. Of course, they were nowhere to be found. There shouldn't be anyone inside, but just to make sure, Christopher cupped his hands and shouted, "Hello! Is there anyone in there? If there is, try to get out! There's a fire!" He repeated this a few times till he was sure there was no one there. Then amidst all the inferno, and the building collapsing, he heard a faint shout. His blood chilled as he ran towards the source, throwing aside his sweater. "Keep shouting!", he sprinted to the wreckage to save the poor sod, whoever it might be.

Alan gritted his teeth as he tried to move his leg. It was agony. The wooden beams were too heavy and he was quite sure he had at least sprained his ankle, if not broken it. But if he didn't get out soon, there was a more serious problem to deal with. More specifically, the fire that was consuming the rubble around him, and soon it would be his turn. His breathing became erratic as the fire was almost too hot to bear. He could hardly see a thing as it was, the black smoke reducing visibility to almost zero. He'd tried shouting but most likely no one knew, or was in this area. Curse him to choose the most secluded area of the school to get into trouble.

When Christopher entered the building, he started coughing heavily and couldn't see a thing. Using his school shirt to cover his mouth and nose, he stumbled around, almost blindly, as he tried to find the person that was trapped inside. "Hello! Where are you?" He shouts seemed futile and at the back of his mind, he wandered whether he would get out of this himself. It was miracle, it seemed, that when he almost tripped over a ball of cloth and trembling flesh, he had found him. "Help me..." Alan trailed off when he saw that it was Christopher. Christopher stared back at him, mouth dry. "Alan?" Then, shaking himself, Christopher looked at the awkward position Alan was lying in. "Chris, I think my ankle's broken." Alan gestured to his leg, which was clamped on by a sturdy beam. The fire was closing in on them, it was barely 3 metres away. Christopher hurriedly pushed the beam, but it barely budged. Gritting his teeth, he heaved his shoulder against it, but it only slipped an inch or so, not enough for Alan to get his leg out, however much he twisted his lower torso. "Alan, Alan look at 've got to do this with me. I can't do it alone. Together, okay?" Christopher stared intently into the frightened blues. He didn't miss the darting glance at the real danger that was coming for them, or the nervous lick of lips. "Y-yeah, okay." Christopher counted to three and both of them strained desperately against the heavy wood. Nothing. Christopher pushed harder. He would get Alan out if it killed him. "Again, Alan." They tried, chests heaving, and the pain manifested itself on Alan's face as his lips turned white. It twisted Christopher's heart to see his friend in such excruciating pain. He vowed never to let that expression shown on Alan's face ever again. They tried over and over, as the wood gave way bit by bit. Finally, Alan's leg slipped out and Christopher hauled him up. Thank the Lord. He slipped a hand under Alan's armpit and helped him hobble to his feet. Wincing, Alan made a few tentative steps, careful not to place any weight on the injured foot. He didn't get very far, even with Christopher helping him, but it would have to do. Christopher looked over his shoulder every few painful paces and cursed under his breath. They were moving far too slowly, with Alan's injury hampering them. But it was what Alan could cope with. It didn't go unnoticed by Alan himself, who suddenly stopped and said, "Leave me." He hung his head and let go of Christopher. "Get out while you still can." Christopher, meanwhile, kept a firm grip on him and said sternly, "Alan, I'm definitely not abandoning you after all that trouble I went to get you out. Don't be such a martyr, we'll be fine. Leaving you behind isn't an option." Alan opened his mouth to reply when he felt his feet leave the ground.

"Chris, w-what are y-you d-doing?" His mouth popped open as he realised Christopher was carrying him, almost like a baby, both arms curled underneath his back. Änd god help him, even under these circumstances, his cheeks were flushed. Christopher looked down at him, with an unreadable expression, and said, "It's faster this way." Well, it certainly was, but well, Alan was in his _arms_! And it must be taking a toll on Christopher, Alan wasn't heavy, but from the exertion earlier, it was no mean feat to navigate the treacherous ground littered with broken furniture and ash. And both of them could hardly see a thing, and were gagging and coughing from the plume of smoke. The crunch of rubble below Christopher's feet and the roaring the fire was all that registered for a while, as they made their way unevenly. Sometimes when Christopher's arms slipped, and Alan gripped him tightly around the neck, both of them would apologize, not looking at each other. Alan could only think of how surreal this was. He actually enjoyed the feel of Christopher's palm against the small of his back, and Christopher's heady scent of sweat. It was all somewhat comforting even if every step jarred his injured ankle.

Finally, they made it out of the crumbling building. Paramedics swarmed them, covering them with blankets, and giving them masks. They treated Alan for his ankle and smoke inhalation for the both of them, though aside from painful throats, they all seemed fairly unharmed. Of course, there were the waves of questions from teachers and staff, and by the time they crawled into the beds at the Infirmary to stay the night for observatory period, both boys were exhausted and fell into a deep slumber immediately.

Christopher woke up first, the next morning, muscles aching. He looked to the side and saw Alan, still sleeping soundly. He got up noiselessly and changed, and sat at the edge of his bed after washing his face. Here would come the most difficult part of it all. He would do it, of course, he'd decided the moment he saw that it was Alan that was trapped in a burning building and his heart leaped out. It was what Alan deserved. And God forbid should he find out. Christopher promised Alan before that he'd be his friend, and all this while, he;d only been in the back scenes, cleaning up Alan, but never putting in a word of defense for him. All of that took courage, which Christopher was ashamed to admit that he hadn't had much of. But this time, he would take it upon himself, a personal quest to be fulfilled, and he would make Alan happy.

Alan stirred eventually and he sat up in his bed gingerly, only to find Christopher sitting across from him. His face automatically cracked into a smile.

"You stayed."

"I.. wanted to see if you were alright."

"You...care."

And that was all it took for Christopher to lunge forward and envelope the younger boy in a hug. "I was so worried. Don't you ever do that to me again," he whispered fiercely into Alan's ear.

" You cared?" Alan asked, his heart in his shining eyes. "Of course, you id-" The word idiot was on the tip of his tongue but he was sure Alan would take it the wrong way. "You're my best friend," he said softly instead. And Alan grinned a heartbreaking smile, heartbreaking because Christopher knew how much joy the declaration meant to Alan, who was ecstatic, but he didn't miss the slight flinch at the word "friend".

And in that moment, Christopher knew he had made the right choice.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "And I would like to be more if you'd let me."

The widening of the eyes, the disbelief, the parting of the mouth in a soft "O', was all it took before Christopher leaned forward and could count the scattering of the moles below his left eye, and the startling sapphires that bored right into his soul, and he cupped Alan's face tenderly, and kissed him.

A beat.

And of course, Alan kissed him back. Hesitantly, sloppily, and furiously. And as the fingers knotted in Christopher's hair tightly, so did his heart.

He just hoped Alan would find enough footholds in this cliff, because he sure as hell didn't know how to catch him if he fell.


	3. Chapter 3

Christopher smiled down fondly at Alan as the younger boy grinned at him shyly. "You look...great, Alan. Really, really, dashing," he winked. Alan blushed, and muttered a soft thank you. It was the school's winter formal, the last chance for the students to frolic about before adjourning for the holidays. While of course Christopher couldn't show up as Alan's date, he could however, opt to show up as a chaperon. And even though his feelings for the younger boy were purely platonic (even if he pretended otherwise) , Christopher had to admit that the classic tuxedo never looked so good as with the baby blues that Alan possessed, along with the awkward lilt of his head and the innocent charm he had. "You don't look so bad yourself." Christopher just had to laugh at Alan, he really was so adorable at times. "Thanks Alan, but you know, this is just my regular school attire" he gestured to the uniform. "Yeah but then, you still look really handsome...I guess you look good in anything" Alan reddened and cut himself off and he always peered at Christopher frightfully as if it wasn't his place to say these things and that Christopher would attack him or something for doing so. "Come here", Christopher said softly, as he opened his arms. Alan walked forward and rested his forehead on Christopher's shoulders, sighing happily. Christopher looked down at his friend in his arms. He could almost just...kiss him. His smile faltered when the thought flitted through his mind. It had always been that way wasn't that it was disgusting to kiss Alan, as he had feared, no. It was...nice most of the time, if a little odd, and Alan wasn't the type of person who would push things to far so all they did were chaste kisses and the occasional holding of hands. To be honest, it wasn't that much different from kissing girls, Christopher realised. In all retrospect, Alan was probably the least daring girl/boyfriend Christopher ever encountered.

"Get going, Alan, or else the teachers will have a fit." Christopher ushered the boy through the doorway. "But...you'll be there...right?" Alan looked hopefully at the older boy. "Of course, " Christopher promised and he strode forward to tousle Alan's hair. "I'll be there." Alan left the room hesitantly, turning to look back at Christopher every few steps. Christopher could only smile encouragingly at him as he closed the door. A few moments later, there was a knock. "Professor Boyle?" Christopher asked as he opened the door again. "Ah, Christopher, I was wondering if you could help me out in a late-night experiment. The bacteria has just cultured and I thought you'd be interested. "

"Oh, sorry, Professor, but I've signed up as a chaperon for the third year's winter formal." "Oh never mind that barmy old dance, Christopher, I'll write you a pass. If you join me, I'll guarantee you can get some extra credit, " the old man winked at Christopher, wrung his hands and looked hopefully at his student.

"Sorry, professor, I'll have to pass it up."

"Ah, oh well, next time then."

"Indeed, good night, Professor."

"The same to you, old boy."

Christopher exited his room, locked the door, and turned around to face a rueful looking Alan. He jumped, startled.

"Lord, Alan, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the formal? I think they're taking attendance."

"Why didn't you go? Professor Boyle is our favourite teacher. And you could have gotten extra credit."

"It's okay, Alan. I'd much rather be with you."

Alan colored lightly, and said, "Oh, I see. Well, if that's the case," he proffered an arm theatrically, "Would you like to go to the ball with me?"

Christopher laughed out loud, shaking his head and took the offered arm. "I'd be delighted to. "

They strode down the hallway, hand in hand, unaware of the Professor that watched them silently in the shadows.

Alan stood awkwardly at a dusty corner of the school hall, watching various couples dance to crooning tunes provided by the school band. The Sherbone school had invited a neighboring girl's school to attend the formal, so it was interesting to see that his normally boisterous schoolmates were all shy and gentlemanly now, daring each other to ask the giggly girls out. Not that he had any interest, but he kept looking for Christopher amidst whirling skirts and stiff tailcoats. Christopher had gone for a short chaperon briefing and was due back at any moment. Just as he spotted the handsome prefect, so did someone else. A vivacious, pretty girl with big eyes and a dress the color of daffodils had waylaid Christopher, clearly asking him for a dance as she gestured expressively. Alan felt his face warm and he hunched in further into his corner. It figured that Christopher would be asked to dance, why didn't he think of that before, one look at that dashing face was all it needed. It seemed that the big-eyed girl wasn't the only one, Christopher had caught the fancy of a group of twittering girls clustered at the refreshments table, whispering behind their hands excitedly. Christopher had no choice but to accept of course, being the gentleman he was, and it wasn't as if Alan was a suitable partner to ignore the girl in favour of. But Christopher looked around the milling students, seemingly trying to find Alan. But what could Alan do? He avoided Christopher's gaze and sought to turn his head away, hiding the angry flush that rose up, and the sudden urge of possessiveness, in which he felt like telling the girl to keep her maws off _his_ Christopher. All entirely ridiculous of course, so Alan watched miserably as Christopher took the girl's hand politely and led her to the dance floor.

As the hour wore on, Alan's scowl got progressively worse, and so did his mood. Christopher had been dancing non-stop now, even though he was technically a chaperon, as girl after girl clutched his hand eagerly. He had hardly looked up now, though at first he kept trying to throw reassuring glances over his partner's shoulders at Alan, who'd ignored them studiously. Now, Christopher was chatting, almost animatedly, to each and every partner, and Alan could see them practically swooning in his strong, tanned that he didn't do that too, but Alan wondered irritably what was so fascinating about a bunch of talkative girls who wore cloying, sweet scents of cheap perfume and dresses in colors that hurt his eyes. Sighing yet again, he wished he would stop being such a masochist and keep track of every time one of those girls brushed a stray hair off Christopher's jacket, and tried to deny the roaring green monster of jealousy when they leaned in to his sharp jawline to whisper something, their glossy lips so close it was almost indecent. Alan wondered vaguely if he should just head up back to his room already. The formal was a disaster and he wanted to salvage any parts of the night that remained. Maybe he could start on that text about gene families...his frown deepened as Christopher and his partner sidled close by, laughing. "My, that's one frightening face you're wearing, Turing," a voice from behind Alan muttered. Alan jumped and whirled around, before turning red. "E-evening Professor," he stammered, heart jumping erratically. Had the Professor seen him obsessing over Christopher and his dance partners? Would he figure something out? Put two and two together? _How to avoid being caught as a liar; maintain eye contact, but break away occasionally as if to think, don't smile overtly, keep your hands by your side, relaxed, keep your usual habits of speaking i.e stutter minimally in soft tones, don't fidget, don't touch your clothes, don't shuffle your feet..._ Trying to put on a blank face, Alan wet his lips and said, "Oh, it's nothing, Professor. I'm just not one for dancing, much, or partying." That at least, was quite true. "Me neither, m'boy, me neither," the stooped old man surveyed the adolescent couples carelessly, until he raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh? Is that young Christopher I see?" Alan tried to hide the jerk of his head at the mention of Christopher, who was currently swaying with the girl with the yellow dress again. "I suppose so," he said as nonchalantly as he could manage. "Well, well, that sly old dog," the Professor chuckled, swigging a bottle of sherry. "Sir?" Alan tried to keep the curiosity in his voice to the boredom variety. "He's managed to snag the finest girl in all of Dorset. That's Miss Lily Harper right there, heir to one of the finest fortunes in Dorset, and not a bad sight at all, not a bad sight," the Professor whispered conspiratorially. Alan felt his throat tighten. Oh, of course, the richest and most beautiful girl in the room would have her sights on Christopher. And she wasn't as...common as the rest of the girls, even he himself had to admit that she was sophisticated to the point of being quite glamorous. She smiled at Christopher with perfect, straight teeth and had a charming tinkling laugh, such that every boy in the room had their eyes trained on the couple, envious of Christopher's apparent luck.

The perfect couple, the dusty ember lights shone on them, she, like a perfect blonde angel, and he, well, like one of the Gods from Olympus.

Alan couldn't stand it anymore. Shaking his head in disgust, (whether at himself or the situation, he wasn't entirely sure) he thought, _Sod it_ , and he went into the bathroom. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he ever care to compete with _girls_ like that? A month ago, Christopher wasn't even sure if he _liked_ girls. He turned on the tap furiously, and the water gushed out. "My, my, Turing, wasting resources are we?" Alan glared at the doorway, he would've recognised that voice anywhere. "Leave me alone," he tried to sound as if he meant it, and failed. Christopher walked towards him, but he resolutely stared at the porcelain sink. "Alan," Christopher grabbed his wrist. "You know that I had no choice, right?" "But it isn't fair!" Alan surprised himself at his outburst. "It isn't fair, that they, they get to dance with you, and I-I never will," he finished indignantly, body quivering. He bit his lip and chose to look at his golashes. "Alan," the warm mellow voice he could never refuse whispered in his ear, the soft breath sending a shiver down his spine. Christopher tore out some paper towels and dried Alan's damp hands carefully, almost like a caress, as he traced every line on his pink palms. Alan breathed under the tender touch, and Christopher took his hands in his. "Who says you can't dance with me?" He asked with a tug on his lips, looking winsomely at Alan.

"What, you mean-here?" Bewildered, Alan looked at Christopher. In an answer, Christopher began to pull him closer, until they were practically chest to chest. Alan's cheeks warmed at this intimate position. He held himself too stiffly, and almost wanted to cry out with despair when his feet could only shuffle uncertainly, occasionally slipping over Christopher's shiny leather shoes. "Sorry," he mumbled again. Why couldn't he be coordinated too? "Stop apologizing, Alan," Christopher scolded fondly. Through the closed doors and walls, the cheesy, blaring music suddenly seemed soft and romantic when muted, and Alan felt himself relaxing into Christopher's steady arms. They swayed back and forth, not caring who was leading, or about proper dance steps. Alan could see his reflection in the mirror, his face reddened every time their hips bumped gently, though it was far from anything suggestive. He looked up at Christopher's flushed face, whose carefree smile was turning into something more...passionate, and his gaze told Alan all he'd ever wanted to hear from Christopher. Alan was somewhat comforted by the fact that Christopher was as affected as he was, and he rested his head contentedly on Christopher's collar. Neither of them spoke for a long time, and the washroom was a serene scene until Alan grumbled, "You smell of girl perfume, I hate it."Christopher laughed and assured him that he disliked it too. Alan bit his tongue to prevent any mention of Miss Lily Harper.

Their haven was interrupted rather abruptly when the door opened. They broke away hurriedly, Alan fearfully pretended to wash his hands as Professor Boyle entered. Christopher calmly bid the Professor a good evening as he exited the washroom, catching Alan's eye as he left, giving an impish smile. Although Alan smiled back, he couldn't help but feel his heart sinking.

As Alan left the washroom, he saw Christopher immediately pounced on by the same group of girls. "There you are," they gushed. Alan couldn't help but feel a little smug that _he_ was the one that got to dance in private with his boyfriend. Christopher tried to make some excuses, but was saved from it when he spotted an older couple at the double doors.

"Mother, Father!" He called out and strode towards them, politely disentangling himself from the gaggle. The swarm of girls tittered disappointedly as Christopher hugged his parents in welcome. Alan moved slightly closer, he'd only met Christopher's parents once before, only a brief moment. He wondered if they'd remember him.

Christopher's father, a tall imposing sort of man was talking to Christopher about it seemed, school. "Yes, yes, I'm doing fine myself, Father, you have no need to worry," Christopher placated his father. He spotted Alan skulking nearby and brightened, gesturing for Alan to come closer. "Mother, Father, do you remember Christopher? He's one of my best friends," Christopher said, and Alan blushed. "Pleased to be meeting you, Mr and Mrs Morcom," he shook their hands. Christopher's father gave him a cold, disinterested smile, but his mother, a woman with kind eyes, greeted him warmly. "We do love to get to know Christopher's close friends," his mother said. Christopher told his father, "Alan's one of the smartest students Sherbone has. He's topped in all the maths modules and most of the sciences too. Only last month, he won the Dorset Mathematics Championship Cup." Mr Morcom now turned to Alan with obvious interest and appraised him more carefully. "Is that true?" Alan ducked his head and nodded shyly. "Hm. Good of you to have such friends, Chris," Mr Morcom patted Christopher on the shoulder and Alan noticed a fleeting look of displeasure before the features smoothed over again.

"Speaking of friends Christopher, how about that young Miss Harper?" Mr Morcom asked. Evidently, he had also seen the perfect couple on the dance floor. Alan felt like gritting his teeth. "Oh, she's only an acquaintance Father, I've only met her today," Christopher explained. "Nonsense, it's never too early to be making connections, and since she's rather taken by you..." Mr Morcom said. Right on cue, the girl in the yellow dress rushed up to Christopher. "Oooh," she spotted Christopher's parents and hurried to give a small curtsy. "Miss Harper, these are my parents," Christopher introduced them graciously. Mr Morcom's face was one of glee as he said, "Miss Harper, would you think it too forward if I offered you a invitation to spend the upcoming holidays at the Morcom summer house?" Miss Lily Harper looked positively radiant as she accepted in bat of an eyelash. Christopher could hardly protest, even though Alan could tell he wanted to, and he gave Christopher a sad sort of a smile.

Alan felt as if his insides had frozen. Christopher and Lily, _alone_ in the house? Who knows what they would get up to? He thought miserably. It wasn't fair, that yet again, he was denied the chance to spend time with Christopher and others got to. His thoughts were broken in by Christopher's plea,"Wait, Father, seeing as we're inviting Miss Harper, could we also invite Christopher? He's very keen to see the house.." Christopher added almost blandly, crossing his gingers. Alan shot a begging look towards Mr Morcom, who was already ecstatic that Miss Harper had accepted the invitation, and barely gave Alan a cursory glance before saying, "Of course, of course."

Alan thought things were looking up a little as he exchanged a private smile with Christopher.


End file.
